


Felicity in a Robe and a Central City T-shirt

by srmiller



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, baricity, olicity - Freeform, written before we actually met barry on the show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 15:44:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srmiller/pseuds/srmiller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity is enjoying an evening in with her surprising new beau Barry Allen; a knock at the door is all it takes to force Oliver to realize what he’s given up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Felicity in a Robe and a Central City T-shirt

Felicity walked back in to her bedroom wearing her pink terrycloth robe with the bottle of wine she’d opened an hour or so earlier and smiled when she saw Barry laying in her bed, shirtless, and flipping through the tv channels.

“More wine?”

He glanced over at her, his smile instant and warm at the sight of her tousled and beautiful in the dim light.

“Always,” he sat up, reaching for his glass and holding it out for her. “You’ve got a thing for reds, don’t you?”

“It’s my weakness.”

“As it is mine; well, anything red really.”

“Is that so?” She sat next to him, her own glass of wine refilled, and gave him a sly smile, “Does that count for redheads too?”

He winced when he realized the corner he’d painted himself in to, “Not when there are brainy blondes around, I’ve got a bigger weakness for those.”

She laughed, “Excellent save.”

Barry smiled smugly and took the glass from her to set on the side table next to him, pulling her towards him to share warmth and skin contact.

They lay there in comfortable silence while the tv showed nonsense, and Barry absently played with the ends of her hair, wrapping the strands around his finger over and over.

“Are you going to let me stay the night?”

She smiled against his chest, liking the way she could hear his voice just above her and reverberating in his chest, “I’m thinking about it.”

The knock at the door surprised her enough she sat up, and she’d spent enough time around alpha males to notice Barry had also come to attention and the unexpected noise.

“Were you expecting someone?”

“No.” The knock sounded again and this time she recognized the rhythm. “It’s probably just a friend, I’ll go take care of it.”

Shifting to the other side of the bed her bare feet hit the hardwood floor and patted the way down the short hall to the front door and before she looked through the peephole she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, who was on the other side.

With a deep breath she opened the door, “It’s my night off Oliver.”

“I know, I just-“ he stopped when he noticed she wasn’t wearing one of the pajama sets he’d seen her in more than once, or a nightgown which he’d seen her wear once and was now irreversibly seared in to his memory.

It was a man’s t-shirt under the fluffy robe, neither of which were long enough to reach down to her knee, and under the robe he could just barely make out the logo of Central City’s hockey team.

The truth of it, of whose shirt it was and why she was wearing it, hit him like an avil; the mussed hair, the worn off makeup, the sleepy look to her eyes, it all added up to only one thing.

He braced his hands on the doorframe, for support or to keep himself from going inside, he wasn’t sure. “You have company.”

It wasn’t a question, and while he made a valiant attempt to reveal nothing about what he was feeling on his face, he suspected something might have shone through his eyes because Felicity blinked, adjusted her robe and took a small but important step back.

He refused to let himself look behind her to the apartment beyond to search for any signs of Barry Allen among her things.

There were some things a man couldn’t unsee, and despite the vastly different circumstances, he couldn’t bear to see another man’s coat laid over a kitchen chair where his had once been.

“I do.”

He closed his eyes, he couldn’t help it, there wasn’t enough self control in him to keep that emotion concealed. That hurt, that undeserved sense of betrayal, all of which he’d inflicted on himself as penance for his sins, for his choices; she could have been his if he’d been just a little bit more selfish.

It could have been his shirt she wore under a bubble-gum pink robe.

When he could finally open his eyes and look her he dropped his hands, stuffing them in to his pockets to keep from reaching for her, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t come without calling first.”

She licked her lips and shifted on her feet, both nervous gestures, before meeting his eyes with a resigned kind of confidence, because he’d made his choice and she’d made hers, and she refused to guilty for it.

“Good night, Oliver.”

He nodded, understanding, “Good night Felicity.”

She shut the door slowly, but he didn’t move until he heard the latch fall in to place and the locks click.

The anvil in his gut started to burn.

**Author's Note:**

> [share on tumblr if you liked it!](http://awriterincowboyboots.tumblr.com/post/78871247605/felicity-in-a-robe-and-central-city-t-shirt)


End file.
